Fanfiction: Hamish & Andy
Title: Sharing Is Caring
Author: serellie
Pairing(s): Andy/Hamish/Zoe
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6500
Genre: PWP, First Time, Threesome
Warning(s): Slash, Het
Summary: Zoe has a favour to ask Hamish. Unfortunately for Andy, it involves him too. Let's get this straight, this is unabashed porn.
Author's Notes: I dedicate this piece to Laura Johnny Johnson. This is such a small, but spirited little fandom, and it would not be the same without her passion. So, thank you, Laura, for all you do. --- I'm a little nervous about this piece. First off, first piece with het [woo!], plus, I felt a little guilty for including Zoe, because she's more on the sidelines, but, that leads conveniently into my...
Disclaimer: These are fictional representations of real individuals. No harm intended. Unless we establish a safe word first.
Laughter and limbs intertwine, a head rests on a shoulder, fingers run along a bare forearm. They both smile, content, Zoe folded into Hamish. Andy watches from the kitchen, remembers how that feels, the touch of a lover. Now, every sensation only reminds him how alone he is - the coldness of the beer bottle seeping into his palm, the cut of the kitchen counter into his thigh, his hot pulse thumping in his ears.
Andy wonders if they can feel the rhythm of each other's heartbeat, curled up on his couch like they are, if it has merged into one strong, slow beat. Andy's felt Hamish's heartbeat many times before, but it's always a little quicker than his, or a little slower. But on the many nights they've slept side-by-side, crammed into a caravan or cheap hotel room, it's their breathing that regulates and synchronizes, their chests swelling and shrinking simultaneously. It was a connection Andy accepted at first begrudgingly, but gradually came to appreciate, to care for, to nurture.
Andy breaks from his place of observation and leaves the kitchen for the living room. Actually, the apartment is open-plan, so there's very little room definition in the communal areas, just a decreasing of kitchen-ness and an increase of living room-ness. Andy passes Hamish a beer.
Hamish extracts a hand from under Zoe to accept. “Thanks, mate.”
A year ago, they had been in the opposite position. It had been Megan in his arms, and Hamish coming back from the kitchen with a stubby.
The cushions sinks under his weight as he settles upon the couch across from them and their gentle conversation
His own bottle is a welcome object to toy with. He runs his fingers about its rim; they glide up the neck and along the swell of the bottle. Unknowingly to him, eager eyes follow the unconscious path of his fingers.
Zoe whispers to Hamish. Tracks of lipstick transfer to Hamish's ear, a tongue darts between soft, peach lips. Whatever she whispers, Hamish snorts, replying quietly, “You can if you like, he might not-he's not...,” but not quietly enough.
Andy could pretend he didn't hear them, but, “What? 'Not' what?”
Hamish smirks an I dare you smirk. Zoe cackles. She leans forward, tearing away from Hamish. Thighs spread wide and nestled against her chest, elbows upon knees, cheeks in palms. Her airy and sweet summer dress clashes with her un-lady-like sprawled limbs. She doesn't say a word.
“You can't just start-” begins a frustrated Andy.
Finally, Zoe speaks. “We were-I was wondering-have you ever kissed a guy?”
Andy quirks an eyebrow. Hamish and him had talked about this sort of stuff before, even on air, so how curious Zoe would ask directly instead of weaseling it out of Hamish.
“Uh,” starts Andy. “I've-We've-For the show. And skits and stuff-”
“No, no, not that. I mean, like, gotten drunk and pashed a guy. Like, uni maybe or-”
“Like, really? Like, really done it?” Andy has to reign in his skyward eyebrows. “You ask Hame this too? About kissing guys?”
“Yep,” says Zoe.
“And what was your answer, mate?” asks Andy, hoping he'd have someone on his side.
“Yes,” is all Hamish gives accompanied with a shoulder shrug.
Andy isn't certain that means “yes, he answered,” or “yes, I've kissed another bloke,” but from the way Hamish shifts uncomfortably, Andy thinks he can suss out which.
“What? A little confused, Hame?” asks Andy, hoping to get a rise.
“Oh, it seems my Hamish has led quite the scandalous life,” says Zoe as she cups Hamish's face and pecks him on the cheek.
“So...plenty of guys have-but, how did this come up? ” Andy is very aware he hasn't answered the question. Hamish had mentioned over a few beers the occasional liaison long ago. Stuff like this always happens over a few beers. Andy really hopes Zoe doesn't answer his question.
“Just... guys always seem to have a thing for girls getting it on, I've wondered...” Zoe takes another sip from Hamish's beer.
Andy leans over and snatches a BBQ Shape to quell his growing discomfort.
“I've wondered if girls feel the same way about two guys together,” continues Zoe.
“Well, you're a girl,” says Hamish. He presses his forehead against the top of her head. Two sets of eyes close, momentarily aware of only each other. Another intimate moment Andy feels he's trespassing in rather than taking part.
His mind wanders to force the pangs of exclusion out. Zoe has really nice hair, kinda red. No, not red so much, but when light it hits, it gives off an impression of red without being red. She must have a great hair dresser to create impressions of things without being so obvious about it. Andy realizes five years ago, he wouldn't have even thought about the different facets of hair. That bloody woman. Corrupted me, she has, Andy thinks sweetly and bitterly.
The moment breaks. Eyes pop open. “Indeed. I'd hope so,” chirps Zoe with a quirk of an eyebrow.
“So, you're a girl. But you don't like-you wouldn't like to see... that, right?” asks Andy, both curious and fearful. All thoughts of hair and impressions of hair vanquished from his mind
“Oh, I'd-yeah.” says Zoe, taking another sip from Hamish's beer. Andy contemplates getting Zoe her own beer, or really, another one for Hamish.
Uncertain about what Zoe is admitting to, he turns to Hamish. “What about you, Hame? Two guys together? Do it for you?” Andy bites his lip to hide his burgeoning smear of a smile. The teased will tease.
“Nah, not really,” says Hamish, which rewards him with an elbow in the chest from Zoe.
“Lies!” she exclaims. Andy can see a topic well worn fall between them.
“But what about Weatherly?” asks Andy.
“And Hillsy,” says Zoe. “He'd be so up for it.”
“Well... only if I were off my face-”
“I don't think we're drunk enough for this,” moans Andy. “How 'bout some...” Andy mentally orders his alcohol cupboard, wondering what would be most appropriate for swift-drunkeness.
“Cocktails! Colour! Yes!” pipes up Zoe.
“Yeah, I think I've got something fruity. Sound good, Hame?”
Andy watches Hamish take a swig from his now heavily depleted bottle. Pink lipstick has smeared across his lips from the bottle's rim.
“Yeah, mate. Sounds good.”
****
Twenty minutes later, their glasses are full with complicated cocktails, and the room with laughter. Any awkwardness from earlier has slipped away as alcohol is sloshed down eager gullets.
It turns out Zoe is rather a fan of Andy's old cocktail set he picked up at a garage sale years ago.
“Look at this!” she exclaims as she pincers the ice tongs together. "I love this old wood-look of old stuff. This's gotta be 70s. Think - forty years and still stylin'.”
She hands Andy and Hamish their martinis. If it had been half an hour ago, he would have felt self-conscious as she eyes the martini slipping down his throat. “Suave,” she says, “the pair of you. Throw on a tux, and you could be Bond.”
“'Fraid Andy's got me on that,” says Hamish as he rubs his sheared head. They laugh; Zoe promises it will grow back.
After the cocktails come fruity concoctions brewed with the aid of a forty-year-old drink mix book that came with the set. Some drinks, Andy notes, are surprisingly good. If they weren't so garishly coloured and possibly antique, he would order them on a night out. While others, are horribly ghastly slews one could only enjoy if they'd burned their taste buds off. Some of the drinks seem potent enough to do that themselves.
Zoe is going mad with the contents of the booklet, mixing and sharing drinks amongst the three of them. She zips about with such unpredictable energy Andy can see why Hamish loves her. On a rare moment of quiet, when Hamish holds her close, her body fits perfectly into his. Andy can only faintly remember what it feels like to have another body pressed intimately against his own. He misses the softness and warmth of it, of the softness and warmth of love itself. The other things, the discomfort, the stiffness, the awkwardness, the smell of another's stale breath first thing in the morning, and the unbearable heat of his skin against another's, that stuff, what does it matter as long as someone loves you and you love them?
Another tumbler is thrust into Andy's hand, muddying his thoughts. “Here, drink this.”
“But I'm not done my Black Russ-”
“Tough luck, princess! Here, it's a Harvey Wallbanger,” Zoe says with an impish giggle. Andy should roll his eyes at the name, but giggles right along with her. “'Garnish with orange slice', it says, but uh, can't be bothered. Drink!”
Andy stares into the orange liquid and then over the rim at Hamish downing his own cocktail. Andy smacks his lips after the first sip. “Mmm... orangey.”
“I know, right?!” exclaims Zoe.
“Whatchoo got there?” asks Andy, staring at Zoe's murky glass.
“A Nasty Nixon.”
“A what? Can I try?” asks Andy, buoyed by the energy of his friends. Standing on the tips of her toes, Zoe pours a little of the drink into Andy's mouth with surprisingly deft accuracy. “That's only a rum n' coke!” he says after swilling it around his mouth.
“I know. But such a brilliant name, eh?” she says, unaware Hamish is sneaking up behind her. He grabs her around the waist and lifts, her hands thankfully glass free. She squeals, her feet kicking in mid-air.
“Hame! Hame! No, bad Kong! Le-let me down!” she hollers in between breathless laughter. Hamish gives his interpretation of an ape-like holler in answer.
“Nooo! Andy! Andy, save me!” Her manicured fingers reach out for him, and Andy finds himself hurtling towards Hamish and his captive, nearly convincing himself he is performing a heroic deed.
“Let go of the damsel, you fiend, you, you-!” Andy grabs onto Hamish's back, pulling, pulling until they all tumble backwards with flailing limbs and yelps of surprise. They're a jumble of drunk beasts upon Andy's couch.
Someone is sitting on Andy's leg. No, someone is sitting on Andy's lap.
“Hamish, kindly get off, mate.”
“S-sorry. Can't. Zo's on me,” wheezes Hamish.
“Hey! I'm not a monolith! Just dizzy,” says Zoe. She slithers off the couch and onto her knees.
“You are a monolith. You are also a bee and a canary and a siren. And a beautiful, beautiful robot,” says Hamish, his eyes glazed.
“Hamish, you're the monolith. Off!” exclaims Andy. With a few elbows to Andy's gut, Hamish manages to collapse onto the other half of the couch.
Zoe stares up at them, leaning back on her arms as she sits in a rumple upon the floor.
“You two are very pretty,” she says, like a child wondrously observing novelty in the world.
“No, you're bewitched, scallywag! Boys aren't pretty. Handsome. Dashing.” says Hamish. Andy laughs, giddy and breathless from the alcohol and their tomfoolery.
“Scallywag, I'm older-”
“Indeed. She is bewitching,” says Andy absently. Zoe blushes.
Zoe lightly rubs Hamish's leg with her bare foot. “About earlier-get my drink, would you, Hame?” asks Zoe. Hamish does. “About earlier,” Zoe takes a sip. “How confident're you in your sexuality, Andy?”
“What?” Andy says distractedly as Hamish returns from the kitchen, both his and Andy's drinks in hand.
“Your sexuality. Would you ever kiss another guy?”
“Uh...nope,” says Andy as he stirs his drink with a straw. “Mm... still cold.”
“Why not?” Zoe sits up, her voice high.
“'Cause I'm not gay,” says Andy firmly.
“Yeah? And one kiss would turn you gay?”
“No, just-if I'm not attracted to men, why would I kiss one?”
“I bet you couldn't,” Zoe says. Andy stares at her, uncomfortable with the topic and that smirk creeping onto her face.
“You're right,” says Andy, swishing his drink about, wishing at the moment it were something a little more masculine and less fruity. Andy's eyes flicker over to Hamish. He's oblivious, or doing a good job pretending to be. “Okay, Zoe, I get what you're fishing for, but no.”
“What do you think I'm asking for?” asks Zoe, her eyes big and dangerous, and yet she's never looked more cherubic with her messy curls and her sweet summer dress.
“I don't even know why you'd want...you'd want to see that, Zoe.” Zoe blinks up at him innocently. “What about you, Hame? Don't you get a say in this?” asks Andy.
“Look, mate, Zo... we've already discussed this.”
Andy stares at Hamish, waiting for an answer. None comes. “Well, what did-”
“He said, 'only if you said yes',” she adds helpfully. Andy's stomach rolls, seeing his illusion of choice slipping away from him. No, he can still make his own decisions. Free will, and all that nonsense. “It's not that big a deal, Andy, not really. Don't make it one.”
Andy splutters. “But, this is my best mate. At the end of the day, we have a partnership, friendship to maintain.” Andy stares at the floor, conscious Hamish is sitting only a few inches away from him. Genuine fear begins to creep along his skin. He's drunk, maybe even drunk enough to do it, and that makes the fear more potent. “Why'd you say 'yes'?” he asks, without looking Hamish in the face.
Hamish shrugs his shoulders. “It's not that big a deal, mate. ”
“But, but... isn't it-aren't you-I don't-”
Hamish palms Andy's cheek. A mental battle wadges within Andy just at that touch. Should he jump back, and stay as is? Andy pulls from Hamish's touch.
“I'm not-” Andy glances to Zoe. She's perched upon the coffee table, eager, waiting.
“You'd do this for her?” asks Andy.
“I'd do this for her.”
“What do I get then?”
Hamish leans until he can smell Hamish, his answer a whisper. “Her.”
“And that's-she's alright...” splutters Andy. Hamish nods. Is there jealousy in those eyes? Betrayal? Or even.. desire? Andy doesn't know, he's never believed in that soul stuff about eyes anyhow.
Andy's mind is attempting to process that when Hamish leans over, slowly, tentatively. Hamish places a hand upon Andy's chest. They can both feel Andy's wild heart.
He can smell him again, he's so close: of sweat and aftershave-probably Zoe's influence-and that damn alcohol that's lead them here. Then he feels the lips.
They're a little chapped, but soft. It's a chaste kiss, a brush of lips over lips. Hamish pulls back to look Andy in the face. “You must be drunker-more drunk-thank me,” says Andy thickly. Both of them are staring at him; Andy's never felt so nervous.
“What did it feel like?” asks Zoe, leaning forward.
“Like lips, and, heh, rough.” Hamish smirks, unconsciously running a hand over his facial growth.
“Feel good?” asks Zoe.
Andy can't answer that.
“Try it again.”
“No, I-” sputters Andy.
“Andy,” says Hamish, taking Andy's face between his large hands, staring into him, “Zoe wants me to eat your face. I'm going to do that. Let me?”
Andy's never given the opportunity to consent. The lips are on him again, harder, more demanding. He almost pulls back with the suddenness of it.
Andy's eyes drift shut. She wants this after all.
Hamish breaks the kiss to swing his leg over so he's kneeling over Andy's thighs, their chests pressed together. Andy stiffens at the closer contact, but he allows his mind to drift. If it weren't for the scrape of stubble, he could pretend he's with some beautiful creature settled in his lap.
His mouth parts unconsciously and Hamish takes that as an invitation, his tongue slipping between Andy's lips, questing for more flesh. Andy's letting go; more and more of himself gives in to Hamish's tongue, his lips, his hands. Andy gasps as fingers twine in his hair and tug gently, just like he likes.
Andy's forgotten where he is, forgotten who that weight is pressing down on him, smothering him with sensation, whose tongue is delving inside his mouth-the alcohol in his blood helping him not give a fuck-until he hears a moan. Andy's eyes flutter open and he pulls back from Hamish, spying Zoe perched on the edge of the coffee table. Her face is flushed and her hands are balled tightly in her lap, as if they have to be restrained from touching.
Hamish turns to see what Andy is starring at. Hamish faces Andy again, and exhales shakily against his cheek. “This what you wanted?” asks Hamish, his voice crackling. Zoe vigorously nods, her mouth making a pretty 'o' shape as she licks her lips.
“Yes. She said, 'yes',” says Andy.
“Touch yourself. For me,” says Hamish against Andy's cheek. Andy swallows, a little uncertain to whom Hamish is directing his demand. Zoe nods and leans backwards upon the coffee table.
Zoe's eyes flutter shut as she releases her hands, allowing them to run along her body. They trail down to the hem of her skirt, and pull, slowly revealing pale flesh. She presses the heal of her hand through her panties against herself and groans. Andy shivers at the sight, feeling an ache grow within him.
Hamish turns back to Andy, his eyes boring into him, “No, look at me,” his eyes demand, 'That's not for you.” Hamish leans in again, capturing Andy's bottom lip between his own, suckling and nibbling.
That mouth takes him, all of him. Andy is hot and taught and wet. Lips trail down his neck. Andy's never been keen on his neck being kissed, or at least, that's what he thought. The desire to be touched is so strong.
Another moan from Zoe, but when Andy tries to peer over Hamish's shoulder, he pulls Andy's head back and clamps down on skin just under Andy's ear. The spot is more ticklish than erogenous, and Andy giggles and squirms. Hamish stills above him.
Andy pulls back, gauge Hamish, but Hamish's eyes are squished shut, and his breathing hard.
Andy cups Hamish's face in his hands. “Hamish?” he breathes, feeling using any of Hamish's more colloquial names would feel too intimate.
Hamish says nothing for a moment, but with his eyes still closed, he says, “I'm hard.”
“Oh.” Andy's not sure why that surprises him. Andy tries to covertly detect where Hamish is pressed against him, through their layers of cotton and jean, but he can't feel anything hard.
“I mean, just look at her,” says Hamish. Disappointment trickles through his veins-a small part of him had thought, maybe, it was him that-no, that's foolish, reasons Andy, mentally shaking his head, for thinking that, for wanting that.
Andy rolls his pelvis to draw Hamish's attention back. Hamish gasps. Andy does it again, this time more purposefully. Hamish's eyelids flutter.
Andy leans into Hamish's ear and whispers, “I'm hard too.”
A hot, demanding mouth, slick and pliant crushes his. Their bodies twine together, moving and shifting and keening for more contact, more friction.
Through their clothes, Andy can feel Hamish's hardness as they grind together, and surely, Hamish can feel his. Their grunts and groans and whimpers fill the air just as thickly as the scent of sex. Thrusting and keening, fingers grasping for purchase, heart beats pressed together. Andy's cheek rests on Hamish's shoulder; it burns with the contact, but he burns all over.
“I'm going to-again-” drifts from somewhere else. Zoe.
Hamish's thrusts speed up-frantic and desperate. The both of them.
Finally, three people groan and whimper and come together.
**
They lay spent, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, underwear wet and sticky. Andy is the first to open his eyes. Hamish is slumped against him, his head tucked into his neck. Andy can see Zoe, or at least-Oh god, thinks Andy-the bottom half of her. She's sprawled out on the coffee table, her dress hiked up to her waist, panties damp, fingers splayed over her stomach, her chest rising and falling heavily.
Hamish finally heaves himself off Andy, and collapses onto the couch beside him. But, Andy cannot look away from the woman only feet away puddled upon his coffee table.
With a purposeful glance to Andy, Hamish slides down from the couch and over to his girlfriend. He crawls over with surprising stealth so quietly Andy doesn't think Zoe knows Hamish is there until he tenderly caresses the skin of her inner thigh.
She groans upon seeing Hamish between her thighs.
With ginger hands, Hamish slips Zoe's panties down her legs and off, flinging them to the floor. Hamish licks along her inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to pink lips. Finally, Hamish pauses, hovering before her.
He tastes her. Zoe's moans fill Andy's ears.
Small hands dig into Hamish's hair, pulling him closer. Hamish's body is blocking most of he's doing, but the sounds of wet softness are tantalizing.
Hamish sits back. He slips a finger inside Zoe, then two, and slowly pistons them in and out. She rolls a nipple through her dress, whispering Hamish's name.
Hamish slinks back to the couch and Andy, settling beside him. Andy is startled to be brought back into this moment of such intimacy. He didn't mind feeling like an outsider, but being involved is so much better.
Hamish proffers the two slick fingers. He's uncertain what Hamish wants of him, until he places the one fingertip upon Andy's bottom lip. Andy instinctively swipes it with his tongue. Heady. Andy wraps his lips around Hamish's fingers and draws them in. Hamish watches with hooded eyes as Andy sucks the tangy and pungent fluids off Hamish's fingers. A thought dashes swiftly through his mind, What are you doing? You've fulfilled your agreement. But Andy hears it in Hamish's laboured breathing, sees it in his flushed cheeks, feels it in his tender touch: desire. And being desired is more powerful a force than one's own desires.
Hamish pulls them from Andy's mouth and leans in, brushing his lips over Andy's. The taste of her overwhelms him as Andy laps and licks and sucks Hamish's lips and tongue. It's too soon after his last orgasm to be truly aroused, but god, Andy is bloody close.
Andy pulls away from the kiss when he feels a small hand on his chest.
Zoe's there. Zoe's there, hot and sticky and her panties are on the floor. This alone fries Andy's mind.
Hamish leans back enough to allow Zoe to wriggle in between the two of them, nearly kneeing Andy in the chest twice.
“Get what you wanted?” asks Andy.
“Mmm,” she smirks, “And then some.”
Zoe licks along Andy's jaw bone. “I can taste myself on you. I can taste Hame on you.”
“How many times have you come?” asks Andy, a little bewildered this beautiful woman is rubbing herself all over him and her partner-his partner-is right there.
“Me? Oh, about five.”
“Five?” chimes in Hamish. Zoe leans back, and kisses Hamish. After they part, she says, “Yes. Twice with you. Thrice with me.”
“And you're still so...” begins Andy, not certain how to phrase it delicately.
“Up for it?” she suggests. He nods, thankful she doesn't take offence. “Hame, lean forward and kiss Andy. I can't get enough of that.”
Hamish does so, pinning Zoe between them. “Oh, you guys don't know how hot that feels, to be between two sexy, sexy men,” she says when they part. “Shame about not... breathing, but, so worth it.”
Hamish sneaks a hand around and up Zoe's dress. He begins to tease Zoe's opening, rubbing her clitoris and lips, then dipping a finger inside her. Andy can't see what Hamish's doing, but by the way Zoe is leaning against Hamish and breathing heavily, it must feel good.
“Andy... Andy... touch me.” Uncertain what she wants, and what Hamish is comfortable him doing to her, Andy places his hands on either side of Zoe's waist. “No, my... ah...” By the smirk on Hamish's face, he must be doing something she likes. “My, my... these,” she finally manages, and cups her breasts.
Andy reaches out and stiffly palms her small breasts through her dress as if he's holding up a piece of art for hanging.
She shakes her head, then slips the straps of her dress down her shoulders, revealing her t-shirt bra.
Zoe turns to Hamish. “Could you? My arms... not working right.”
Hamish uses the hand not covered in her vaginal fluids to flick her bra closure open. Zoe removes the bra and flings it to the floor and leans back against Hamish. Andy's eyes flicker up to Hamish who nods his consent, then down to Zoe's pert breasts. Andy cups one fleshy mound, swiping his thumb over the peak; the areola and nipple tighten and harden. Andy lathers his thumb with saliva and sweeps it over the nipple again. Zoe hisses when the cold air meets her hot skin.
Andy takes both breasts in hand, massaging the flesh, watching Zoe moan and pant. He bends to take Zoe's left nipple between his lips and sucks. She gasps and whispers, “Yes... that.” Andy suckles, nibbles, and blows upon the slick flesh, moving between the two breasts in turn.
After a particularly vocal squeal from Zoe, she whispers to Hamish. “In me. Now. You good?” Hamish stands and strips eagerly. Zoe clutches at Andy. He can feel her thighs quivering above him, her nipples through his t-shirt, her breath against his neck.
Andy has seen Hamish naked more times than he'd care, but he's never seen that bloom of pink across his chest and face, nor his cock full and turgid with arousal. Andy shies his eyes as clothing hits the floor until he hears Hamish swear. Andy chuckles reflexively.
Hamish is peeling off his boxers, the cotton tacky with his earlier release, sticking uncomfortably to his erection. Andy stills upon seeing the long length. The foreskin is retracted fully, the head a ruddy pink; Hamish is fully hard.
Hamish pulls a throw off the couch and lays it upon the hardwood floor. He then picks up a rather dishevelled and flushed Zoe and lays her upon the throw, her body pressed to his as he trails light fingers along her skin. Zoe sits up and pulls her dress over her head and throws it... somewhere, who cares.
She places a hand upon his chest and asks him to lay down upon the blanket. Her hands and mouth travel over his skin expertly, knowing where and how to make him moan.
Those moans-his best friend's moans-are going to be stuck in Andy's mind forever now. With time, they may erode and mutate, but always, the essence of them will be remembered. Andy can't decide if that's a good thing or not.
Finally, Zoe clambers atop Hamish, hovering just above his erection, and then with one hand keeping it in place, sinks down. Soft, wet lips engulf a hard length. She leans over until her red cheeks rests upon Hamish's sweaty chest, and then she begins to fuck him in earnest. There's no up, just down, down, down, relentlessly, Hamish's cock disappearing between her moist folds. Hard and fast they move. Andy closes his eyes, just listening to the wet slapping of their skin and harsh breathing. She cries out, like something is being torn from her. Despite himself, Andy whimpers shakily.
Then, Hamish flips Zoe onto her back and thrusts, her legs wrap around his waist
He's watching his best friend fuck. He's watching him fuck, and it's-he can't hide from it-it's making his skin prickle, his stomach clench, it's making him want to kneel down between them and lick all over their salty skin, to taste the sex. He wants to slide between them, feel their bodies against his, crush his. How did he get here?
He cups himself through his jeans. His pulse is pounding in his ears, but when he closes his eyes, it's them he hears. Their skin slapping together rhythmically, their mewling, their hard breathing, their half whispers of love. With his eyes closed, he can almost feel them against him, around him. Their soft and hard bodies pounding around him.
Oh god, he's aching again. He releases his belt and slips a hand into his shorts, feeling himself through his boxers. He's so hard, and he only came maybe twenty minutes ago, but his balls ache as if he hasn't released in days, weeks. He just-he needs to feel skin.
He strips off his t-shirt. His chest is tacky with sweat, and his fingers drag on his chest hairs as he rubs a hand over himself. He's burns with heat. His fingers flicker over his lower abdomen, causing his muscles to clench pleasantly, sending tendrils of sensation through him to his groin, his need. His eyes drift open. Hamish still has Zoe on her back. Her fingers are digging into his back as Hamish pounds into her, desperately, as if this is all he needs in the world. Their starring intently into each other's eyes, their lips hovering centimetres apart. They can't see him, only each other, and for some reason, this makes Andy all the more harder.
Andy arches into his own touch, as his hand explores his chest further, finding a nipple and twisting, hard. It's almost is if his hand belongs to another, the way it lovingly ghosts over his skin. His other hand slithers into his boxers and grabs his cock. Andy grimaces at the slickness of his previous release mixing with his precome. At least he won't need lube for this.
He wriggles out of his shorts, and with a slight hesitation, out of his boxers too. The first couple strokes are almost painful he's so sensitive, but soon he finds his comfortable pace, and rocks into his hand.
His eyes drift back to the couple, only to find they've slowed their frantic fucking, and their eyes on him.
He pauses, unsettled with their intent gaze.
“Andy,” croaks Zoe, “come here.”
Should he? He's so close now, he could finish himself quickly into his hand, but, their eyes are so desirous, the pair of them. Their desire fuels his, and he finds himself crawling towards them on the floor, his sweaty knees dragging painfully upon the hardwood, his erection bobbing between his legs.
Zoe whispers into Hamish's ear, and Hamish rolls off her with a groan. Andy feels a little guilty; he must have been close to his release. Hamish's cock head is red, stark against the rest of his pale skin. Andy finds himself staring at the erection, noting the similarities and differences between his and Hamish's, wondering what it would feel like in his hand, pressed against his belly, the taste of it in his mouth. Fuck, what is he thinking?
Zoe is beckoning to him to lie down where her and Hamish lay only moments before. He can feel a little cold spot where Zoe's fluids must have leaked out and pooled on the blanket. Zoe is smiling down at him with a wicked grin. Andy almost feels nervous except for the arousal coursing through him leaves little room for any other emotion.
Zoe swings her leg over Andy's torso, and settles down upon his chest, facing away from him. Her ass is nearly in his face, obscuring the rest of his body. She bends over, raising her behind just an inch or two, enough for him to see her pink lips stretched between her legs. Andy feels an impulse to touch her, to thrust his fingers inside her and feel that soft, moist flesh of her canal. And then a velvety heat engulfs his cock head, lips upon his shaft. His groan is long and hard.
The heat takes him in further, consuming him. What is he but those inches of flesh? If he closes his eyes, that's all he can feel is that mouth stretched around him. Well, that and the burning heat of Zoe's core pressed into his chest, inches from his face. Such a shame she is such a petite woman and he so tall, he would have loved to delve his tongue into the very core of her, hear her moan. Her opening is so close, maybe with his fingers, he could...
A small flicker of guilt courses through him when he rolls his head and sees Hamish only a foot away, a hand wrapped around his angry cock. His hand is moving at an agonizingly slow rate. Zoe probably told him he couldn't come without her or something.
The guilt deepens as he sees how strained and taught Hamish's whole body is. His hips are jerking slowly, his teeth biting into his lip, and eyes shut tightly with concentration, probably thinking of anything not to come. Hamish squeezes his balls, they're tight against his body, and whimpers.
An emotion of something warm and gooey floods through him. It's somewhere between love and lust, a deep compassion, an understanding that these people mean so much in his life. Perhaps it's just the arousal, but he feels a connection he didn't know he held until just this moment, something beyond matey beers and a working relationship, even beyond friendship. Andy reaches over and brushes a hand across Hamish's cheek and up into his hairline. Hamish's eyes snap open.
“Come closer,” mouths Andy. Hamish inches over until Hamish's hip is resting against Zoe's leg. She sits up momentarily from the touch, but returns to sucking along Andy's erection with a smile upon seeing Hamish.
“I want to do something for you,” whispers Andy. He doesn't know why he's whispering, but the moment seems to require it.
Andy reaches for Hamish's hand and takes it in his own, bringing it to his mouth. He swipes his tongue over the palm. It tastes of so many heady and salty things: sweat, semen, and Zoe's come. It tastes good, and Andy licks the whole of Hamish's hand, sucking each finger into his mouth, all the while Hamish stares at his mouth with what Andy can only describe as lust.
Andy returns Hamish's hand to Hame's erection, his own hand covering Hamish's. “Show-show me what you like,” Andy stutters.
Hamish's eyes widen and then his tongue swipes over his bottom lip eagerly. Hamish takes Andy's hand and wraps it around his cock, slowly gliding it up and down. It feels both familiar and foreign and tantalizingly intimate; he's never felt another man's penis, particularly an aroused one.
Hamish throws his head back and closes his eyes, losing himself. Andy begins to pick up the pace, swishing his palm over the head ever few jerks, making Hamish buck his hips and pant heavily. Andy smirks with the power he holds.
Zoe must be feeling neglected, for she sucks Andy's cock deep into her mouth, until her lips kiss his pelvis. Andy keens and jerks. He would swear Zoe is smiling around his penis.
He can feel his own orgasm pending, like the sun about to break the horizon at dawn. His hand slows around Hamish's cock as the burn starts to curl in his limbs and his muscles tense. It comes upon him so forcefully, it's almost painful with its intensity. He bucks his hips-although he doesn't know if it's away or into Zoe's mouth as he releases his seed. Zoe milks every wave of ebbing pleasure that follows. The seering heat dissipates into a pleasant warmth that tingles all through his body.
“Zoe,” Andy rasps. Zoe climbs off Andy and spins to face him. She spits Andy's release into her hand with a smirk. “Just wipe it on the blanket,” he says, “Come here.” Zoe leans over Andy, smiling down at him. Her face is sweaty, her makeup is smeared, and she is so utterly beautiful.
“I'm sorry, I was going to finger you, but I got distracted.” Andy jerks his eyes over to a gently panting Hamish. Zoe laughs.
“It's okay. I've come six times to your two. I'm good.” She leans over and kisses him gently. Andy tastes himself on her, still an odd experience, like licking his own reflection in a mirror.
“Can I,” begins Andy, after they part, “Can I finish off your boyfriend?” Zoe's eyes brighten. Andy chuckles at her reaction.
Zoe grabs a second throw, wrapping it around herself, and then sprawls upon Andy's couch, her joints surely a little sore from Andy's hard floor. She flickers her hand as if to say, “Go on.” Andy chuckles and settles upon Hamish's thighs. Hamish's eyes are closed in concentration, his teeth biting his bottom lip.
Andy's first touch on Hamish's dick is met with a low moan. With two hands, he works up and down Hamish's length, twisting and squeezing until Hamish's breathing is ragged and his cheeks flaming with just how near he is. “I'm so-so-so close,” pants Hamish.
Without fully thinking through his actions, Andy inches backwards and then bends over, taking Hamish's head into his mouth. It's... hot and salty, and it feels shiny and hard. Hamish whimpers and bucks his hips into Andy's mouth, gagging him with his enthusiasm and need.
“Oh, fuck,” moans Hamish. Andy attempts to suck Hamish as far in as he can, but chokes about half way down Hamish's length.
“And-Andy, I'm gonna come. Oh, oh god...” Something hot hits the back of Andy's mouth, and he pulls off of Hamish's cock, spitting it out. Seed pulses from Hamish's cock as he releases a strangled cry.
“Oh, fuck,” repeats Hamish breathlessly. “I can't believe you-you-fuck!” Andy smirks. He glances up to Zoe. Her eyes are sparkling. She looks majestic laying upon his couch, wrapped in the blanket and her cheeky smile. She nods at the pair of them. Andy knows what to do. He snakes up Hamish's body and leans in for a gentle kiss. Hamish eagerly responds, parting his lips and welcoming Andy's tongue.
They break apart, panting slightly and staring into each other. Without breaking their gaze, Hamish speaks. “Zobot, you happy?”
Only a “Very, Hamebot” comes from the couch. Andy collapses onto the floor beside Hamish, sticky and sore, and just laughs.
Author: serellie
Pairing(s): Andy/Hamish/Zoe
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6500
Genre: PWP, First Time, Threesome
Warning(s): Slash, Het
Summary: Zoe has a favour to ask Hamish. Unfortunately for Andy, it involves him too. Let's get this straight, this is unabashed porn.
Author's Notes: I dedicate this piece to Laura Johnny Johnson. This is such a small, but spirited little fandom, and it would not be the same without her passion. So, thank you, Laura, for all you do. --- I'm a little nervous about this piece. First off, first piece with het [woo!], plus, I felt a little guilty for including Zoe, because she's more on the sidelines, but, that leads conveniently into my...
Disclaimer: These are fictional representations of real individuals. No harm intended. Unless we establish a safe word first.
Laughter and limbs intertwine, a head rests on a shoulder, fingers run along a bare forearm. They both smile, content, Zoe folded into Hamish. Andy watches from the kitchen, remembers how that feels, the touch of a lover. Now, every sensation only reminds him how alone he is - the coldness of the beer bottle seeping into his palm, the cut of the kitchen counter into his thigh, his hot pulse thumping in his ears.
Andy wonders if they can feel the rhythm of each other's heartbeat, curled up on his couch like they are, if it has merged into one strong, slow beat. Andy's felt Hamish's heartbeat many times before, but it's always a little quicker than his, or a little slower. But on the many nights they've slept side-by-side, crammed into a caravan or cheap hotel room, it's their breathing that regulates and synchronizes, their chests swelling and shrinking simultaneously. It was a connection Andy accepted at first begrudgingly, but gradually came to appreciate, to care for, to nurture.
Andy breaks from his place of observation and leaves the kitchen for the living room. Actually, the apartment is open-plan, so there's very little room definition in the communal areas, just a decreasing of kitchen-ness and an increase of living room-ness. Andy passes Hamish a beer.
Hamish extracts a hand from under Zoe to accept. “Thanks, mate.”
A year ago, they had been in the opposite position. It had been Megan in his arms, and Hamish coming back from the kitchen with a stubby.
The cushions sinks under his weight as he settles upon the couch across from them and their gentle conversation
His own bottle is a welcome object to toy with. He runs his fingers about its rim; they glide up the neck and along the swell of the bottle. Unknowingly to him, eager eyes follow the unconscious path of his fingers.
Zoe whispers to Hamish. Tracks of lipstick transfer to Hamish's ear, a tongue darts between soft, peach lips. Whatever she whispers, Hamish snorts, replying quietly, “You can if you like, he might not-he's not...,” but not quietly enough.
Andy could pretend he didn't hear them, but, “What? 'Not' what?”
Hamish smirks an I dare you smirk. Zoe cackles. She leans forward, tearing away from Hamish. Thighs spread wide and nestled against her chest, elbows upon knees, cheeks in palms. Her airy and sweet summer dress clashes with her un-lady-like sprawled limbs. She doesn't say a word.
“You can't just start-” begins a frustrated Andy.
Finally, Zoe speaks. “We were-I was wondering-have you ever kissed a guy?”
Andy quirks an eyebrow. Hamish and him had talked about this sort of stuff before, even on air, so how curious Zoe would ask directly instead of weaseling it out of Hamish.
“Uh,” starts Andy. “I've-We've-For the show. And skits and stuff-”
“No, no, not that. I mean, like, gotten drunk and pashed a guy. Like, uni maybe or-”
“Like, really? Like, really done it?” Andy has to reign in his skyward eyebrows. “You ask Hame this too? About kissing guys?”
“Yep,” says Zoe.
“And what was your answer, mate?” asks Andy, hoping he'd have someone on his side.
“Yes,” is all Hamish gives accompanied with a shoulder shrug.
Andy isn't certain that means “yes, he answered,” or “yes, I've kissed another bloke,” but from the way Hamish shifts uncomfortably, Andy thinks he can suss out which.
“What? A little confused, Hame?” asks Andy, hoping to get a rise.
“Oh, it seems my Hamish has led quite the scandalous life,” says Zoe as she cups Hamish's face and pecks him on the cheek.
“So...plenty of guys have-but, how did this come up? ” Andy is very aware he hasn't answered the question. Hamish had mentioned over a few beers the occasional liaison long ago. Stuff like this always happens over a few beers. Andy really hopes Zoe doesn't answer his question.
“Just... guys always seem to have a thing for girls getting it on, I've wondered...” Zoe takes another sip from Hamish's beer.
Andy leans over and snatches a BBQ Shape to quell his growing discomfort.
“I've wondered if girls feel the same way about two guys together,” continues Zoe.
“Well, you're a girl,” says Hamish. He presses his forehead against the top of her head. Two sets of eyes close, momentarily aware of only each other. Another intimate moment Andy feels he's trespassing in rather than taking part.
His mind wanders to force the pangs of exclusion out. Zoe has really nice hair, kinda red. No, not red so much, but when light it hits, it gives off an impression of red without being red. She must have a great hair dresser to create impressions of things without being so obvious about it. Andy realizes five years ago, he wouldn't have even thought about the different facets of hair. That bloody woman. Corrupted me, she has, Andy thinks sweetly and bitterly.
The moment breaks. Eyes pop open. “Indeed. I'd hope so,” chirps Zoe with a quirk of an eyebrow.
“So, you're a girl. But you don't like-you wouldn't like to see... that, right?” asks Andy, both curious and fearful. All thoughts of hair and impressions of hair vanquished from his mind
“Oh, I'd-yeah.” says Zoe, taking another sip from Hamish's beer. Andy contemplates getting Zoe her own beer, or really, another one for Hamish.
Uncertain about what Zoe is admitting to, he turns to Hamish. “What about you, Hame? Two guys together? Do it for you?” Andy bites his lip to hide his burgeoning smear of a smile. The teased will tease.
“Nah, not really,” says Hamish, which rewards him with an elbow in the chest from Zoe.
“Lies!” she exclaims. Andy can see a topic well worn fall between them.
“But what about Weatherly?” asks Andy.
“And Hillsy,” says Zoe. “He'd be so up for it.”
“Well... only if I were off my face-”
“I don't think we're drunk enough for this,” moans Andy. “How 'bout some...” Andy mentally orders his alcohol cupboard, wondering what would be most appropriate for swift-drunkeness.
“Cocktails! Colour! Yes!” pipes up Zoe.
“Yeah, I think I've got something fruity. Sound good, Hame?”
Andy watches Hamish take a swig from his now heavily depleted bottle. Pink lipstick has smeared across his lips from the bottle's rim.
“Yeah, mate. Sounds good.”
****
Twenty minutes later, their glasses are full with complicated cocktails, and the room with laughter. Any awkwardness from earlier has slipped away as alcohol is sloshed down eager gullets.
It turns out Zoe is rather a fan of Andy's old cocktail set he picked up at a garage sale years ago.
“Look at this!” she exclaims as she pincers the ice tongs together. "I love this old wood-look of old stuff. This's gotta be 70s. Think - forty years and still stylin'.”
She hands Andy and Hamish their martinis. If it had been half an hour ago, he would have felt self-conscious as she eyes the martini slipping down his throat. “Suave,” she says, “the pair of you. Throw on a tux, and you could be Bond.”
“'Fraid Andy's got me on that,” says Hamish as he rubs his sheared head. They laugh; Zoe promises it will grow back.
After the cocktails come fruity concoctions brewed with the aid of a forty-year-old drink mix book that came with the set. Some drinks, Andy notes, are surprisingly good. If they weren't so garishly coloured and possibly antique, he would order them on a night out. While others, are horribly ghastly slews one could only enjoy if they'd burned their taste buds off. Some of the drinks seem potent enough to do that themselves.
Zoe is going mad with the contents of the booklet, mixing and sharing drinks amongst the three of them. She zips about with such unpredictable energy Andy can see why Hamish loves her. On a rare moment of quiet, when Hamish holds her close, her body fits perfectly into his. Andy can only faintly remember what it feels like to have another body pressed intimately against his own. He misses the softness and warmth of it, of the softness and warmth of love itself. The other things, the discomfort, the stiffness, the awkwardness, the smell of another's stale breath first thing in the morning, and the unbearable heat of his skin against another's, that stuff, what does it matter as long as someone loves you and you love them?
Another tumbler is thrust into Andy's hand, muddying his thoughts. “Here, drink this.”
“But I'm not done my Black Russ-”
“Tough luck, princess! Here, it's a Harvey Wallbanger,” Zoe says with an impish giggle. Andy should roll his eyes at the name, but giggles right along with her. “'Garnish with orange slice', it says, but uh, can't be bothered. Drink!”
Andy stares into the orange liquid and then over the rim at Hamish downing his own cocktail. Andy smacks his lips after the first sip. “Mmm... orangey.”
“I know, right?!” exclaims Zoe.
“Whatchoo got there?” asks Andy, staring at Zoe's murky glass.
“A Nasty Nixon.”
“A what? Can I try?” asks Andy, buoyed by the energy of his friends. Standing on the tips of her toes, Zoe pours a little of the drink into Andy's mouth with surprisingly deft accuracy. “That's only a rum n' coke!” he says after swilling it around his mouth.
“I know. But such a brilliant name, eh?” she says, unaware Hamish is sneaking up behind her. He grabs her around the waist and lifts, her hands thankfully glass free. She squeals, her feet kicking in mid-air.
“Hame! Hame! No, bad Kong! Le-let me down!” she hollers in between breathless laughter. Hamish gives his interpretation of an ape-like holler in answer.
“Nooo! Andy! Andy, save me!” Her manicured fingers reach out for him, and Andy finds himself hurtling towards Hamish and his captive, nearly convincing himself he is performing a heroic deed.
“Let go of the damsel, you fiend, you, you-!” Andy grabs onto Hamish's back, pulling, pulling until they all tumble backwards with flailing limbs and yelps of surprise. They're a jumble of drunk beasts upon Andy's couch.
Someone is sitting on Andy's leg. No, someone is sitting on Andy's lap.
“Hamish, kindly get off, mate.”
“S-sorry. Can't. Zo's on me,” wheezes Hamish.
“Hey! I'm not a monolith! Just dizzy,” says Zoe. She slithers off the couch and onto her knees.
“You are a monolith. You are also a bee and a canary and a siren. And a beautiful, beautiful robot,” says Hamish, his eyes glazed.
“Hamish, you're the monolith. Off!” exclaims Andy. With a few elbows to Andy's gut, Hamish manages to collapse onto the other half of the couch.
Zoe stares up at them, leaning back on her arms as she sits in a rumple upon the floor.
“You two are very pretty,” she says, like a child wondrously observing novelty in the world.
“No, you're bewitched, scallywag! Boys aren't pretty. Handsome. Dashing.” says Hamish. Andy laughs, giddy and breathless from the alcohol and their tomfoolery.
“Scallywag, I'm older-”
“Indeed. She is bewitching,” says Andy absently. Zoe blushes.
Zoe lightly rubs Hamish's leg with her bare foot. “About earlier-get my drink, would you, Hame?” asks Zoe. Hamish does. “About earlier,” Zoe takes a sip. “How confident're you in your sexuality, Andy?”
“What?” Andy says distractedly as Hamish returns from the kitchen, both his and Andy's drinks in hand.
“Your sexuality. Would you ever kiss another guy?”
“Uh...nope,” says Andy as he stirs his drink with a straw. “Mm... still cold.”
“Why not?” Zoe sits up, her voice high.
“'Cause I'm not gay,” says Andy firmly.
“Yeah? And one kiss would turn you gay?”
“No, just-if I'm not attracted to men, why would I kiss one?”
“I bet you couldn't,” Zoe says. Andy stares at her, uncomfortable with the topic and that smirk creeping onto her face.
“You're right,” says Andy, swishing his drink about, wishing at the moment it were something a little more masculine and less fruity. Andy's eyes flicker over to Hamish. He's oblivious, or doing a good job pretending to be. “Okay, Zoe, I get what you're fishing for, but no.”
“What do you think I'm asking for?” asks Zoe, her eyes big and dangerous, and yet she's never looked more cherubic with her messy curls and her sweet summer dress.
“I don't even know why you'd want...you'd want to see that, Zoe.” Zoe blinks up at him innocently. “What about you, Hame? Don't you get a say in this?” asks Andy.
“Look, mate, Zo... we've already discussed this.”
Andy stares at Hamish, waiting for an answer. None comes. “Well, what did-”
“He said, 'only if you said yes',” she adds helpfully. Andy's stomach rolls, seeing his illusion of choice slipping away from him. No, he can still make his own decisions. Free will, and all that nonsense. “It's not that big a deal, Andy, not really. Don't make it one.”
Andy splutters. “But, this is my best mate. At the end of the day, we have a partnership, friendship to maintain.” Andy stares at the floor, conscious Hamish is sitting only a few inches away from him. Genuine fear begins to creep along his skin. He's drunk, maybe even drunk enough to do it, and that makes the fear more potent. “Why'd you say 'yes'?” he asks, without looking Hamish in the face.
Hamish shrugs his shoulders. “It's not that big a deal, mate. ”
“But, but... isn't it-aren't you-I don't-”
Hamish palms Andy's cheek. A mental battle wadges within Andy just at that touch. Should he jump back, and stay as is? Andy pulls from Hamish's touch.
“I'm not-” Andy glances to Zoe. She's perched upon the coffee table, eager, waiting.
“You'd do this for her?” asks Andy.
“I'd do this for her.”
“What do I get then?”
Hamish leans until he can smell Hamish, his answer a whisper. “Her.”
“And that's-she's alright...” splutters Andy. Hamish nods. Is there jealousy in those eyes? Betrayal? Or even.. desire? Andy doesn't know, he's never believed in that soul stuff about eyes anyhow.
Andy's mind is attempting to process that when Hamish leans over, slowly, tentatively. Hamish places a hand upon Andy's chest. They can both feel Andy's wild heart.
He can smell him again, he's so close: of sweat and aftershave-probably Zoe's influence-and that damn alcohol that's lead them here. Then he feels the lips.
They're a little chapped, but soft. It's a chaste kiss, a brush of lips over lips. Hamish pulls back to look Andy in the face. “You must be drunker-more drunk-thank me,” says Andy thickly. Both of them are staring at him; Andy's never felt so nervous.
“What did it feel like?” asks Zoe, leaning forward.
“Like lips, and, heh, rough.” Hamish smirks, unconsciously running a hand over his facial growth.
“Feel good?” asks Zoe.
Andy can't answer that.
“Try it again.”
“No, I-” sputters Andy.
“Andy,” says Hamish, taking Andy's face between his large hands, staring into him, “Zoe wants me to eat your face. I'm going to do that. Let me?”
Andy's never given the opportunity to consent. The lips are on him again, harder, more demanding. He almost pulls back with the suddenness of it.
Andy's eyes drift shut. She wants this after all.
Hamish breaks the kiss to swing his leg over so he's kneeling over Andy's thighs, their chests pressed together. Andy stiffens at the closer contact, but he allows his mind to drift. If it weren't for the scrape of stubble, he could pretend he's with some beautiful creature settled in his lap.
His mouth parts unconsciously and Hamish takes that as an invitation, his tongue slipping between Andy's lips, questing for more flesh. Andy's letting go; more and more of himself gives in to Hamish's tongue, his lips, his hands. Andy gasps as fingers twine in his hair and tug gently, just like he likes.
Andy's forgotten where he is, forgotten who that weight is pressing down on him, smothering him with sensation, whose tongue is delving inside his mouth-the alcohol in his blood helping him not give a fuck-until he hears a moan. Andy's eyes flutter open and he pulls back from Hamish, spying Zoe perched on the edge of the coffee table. Her face is flushed and her hands are balled tightly in her lap, as if they have to be restrained from touching.
Hamish turns to see what Andy is starring at. Hamish faces Andy again, and exhales shakily against his cheek. “This what you wanted?” asks Hamish, his voice crackling. Zoe vigorously nods, her mouth making a pretty 'o' shape as she licks her lips.
“Yes. She said, 'yes',” says Andy.
“Touch yourself. For me,” says Hamish against Andy's cheek. Andy swallows, a little uncertain to whom Hamish is directing his demand. Zoe nods and leans backwards upon the coffee table.
Zoe's eyes flutter shut as she releases her hands, allowing them to run along her body. They trail down to the hem of her skirt, and pull, slowly revealing pale flesh. She presses the heal of her hand through her panties against herself and groans. Andy shivers at the sight, feeling an ache grow within him.
Hamish turns back to Andy, his eyes boring into him, “No, look at me,” his eyes demand, 'That's not for you.” Hamish leans in again, capturing Andy's bottom lip between his own, suckling and nibbling.
That mouth takes him, all of him. Andy is hot and taught and wet. Lips trail down his neck. Andy's never been keen on his neck being kissed, or at least, that's what he thought. The desire to be touched is so strong.
Another moan from Zoe, but when Andy tries to peer over Hamish's shoulder, he pulls Andy's head back and clamps down on skin just under Andy's ear. The spot is more ticklish than erogenous, and Andy giggles and squirms. Hamish stills above him.
Andy pulls back, gauge Hamish, but Hamish's eyes are squished shut, and his breathing hard.
Andy cups Hamish's face in his hands. “Hamish?” he breathes, feeling using any of Hamish's more colloquial names would feel too intimate.
Hamish says nothing for a moment, but with his eyes still closed, he says, “I'm hard.”
“Oh.” Andy's not sure why that surprises him. Andy tries to covertly detect where Hamish is pressed against him, through their layers of cotton and jean, but he can't feel anything hard.
“I mean, just look at her,” says Hamish. Disappointment trickles through his veins-a small part of him had thought, maybe, it was him that-no, that's foolish, reasons Andy, mentally shaking his head, for thinking that, for wanting that.
Andy rolls his pelvis to draw Hamish's attention back. Hamish gasps. Andy does it again, this time more purposefully. Hamish's eyelids flutter.
Andy leans into Hamish's ear and whispers, “I'm hard too.”
A hot, demanding mouth, slick and pliant crushes his. Their bodies twine together, moving and shifting and keening for more contact, more friction.
Through their clothes, Andy can feel Hamish's hardness as they grind together, and surely, Hamish can feel his. Their grunts and groans and whimpers fill the air just as thickly as the scent of sex. Thrusting and keening, fingers grasping for purchase, heart beats pressed together. Andy's cheek rests on Hamish's shoulder; it burns with the contact, but he burns all over.
“I'm going to-again-” drifts from somewhere else. Zoe.
Hamish's thrusts speed up-frantic and desperate. The both of them.
Finally, three people groan and whimper and come together.
**
They lay spent, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, underwear wet and sticky. Andy is the first to open his eyes. Hamish is slumped against him, his head tucked into his neck. Andy can see Zoe, or at least-Oh god, thinks Andy-the bottom half of her. She's sprawled out on the coffee table, her dress hiked up to her waist, panties damp, fingers splayed over her stomach, her chest rising and falling heavily.
Hamish finally heaves himself off Andy, and collapses onto the couch beside him. But, Andy cannot look away from the woman only feet away puddled upon his coffee table.
With a purposeful glance to Andy, Hamish slides down from the couch and over to his girlfriend. He crawls over with surprising stealth so quietly Andy doesn't think Zoe knows Hamish is there until he tenderly caresses the skin of her inner thigh.
She groans upon seeing Hamish between her thighs.
With ginger hands, Hamish slips Zoe's panties down her legs and off, flinging them to the floor. Hamish licks along her inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to pink lips. Finally, Hamish pauses, hovering before her.
He tastes her. Zoe's moans fill Andy's ears.
Small hands dig into Hamish's hair, pulling him closer. Hamish's body is blocking most of he's doing, but the sounds of wet softness are tantalizing.
Hamish sits back. He slips a finger inside Zoe, then two, and slowly pistons them in and out. She rolls a nipple through her dress, whispering Hamish's name.
Hamish slinks back to the couch and Andy, settling beside him. Andy is startled to be brought back into this moment of such intimacy. He didn't mind feeling like an outsider, but being involved is so much better.
Hamish proffers the two slick fingers. He's uncertain what Hamish wants of him, until he places the one fingertip upon Andy's bottom lip. Andy instinctively swipes it with his tongue. Heady. Andy wraps his lips around Hamish's fingers and draws them in. Hamish watches with hooded eyes as Andy sucks the tangy and pungent fluids off Hamish's fingers. A thought dashes swiftly through his mind, What are you doing? You've fulfilled your agreement. But Andy hears it in Hamish's laboured breathing, sees it in his flushed cheeks, feels it in his tender touch: desire. And being desired is more powerful a force than one's own desires.
Hamish pulls them from Andy's mouth and leans in, brushing his lips over Andy's. The taste of her overwhelms him as Andy laps and licks and sucks Hamish's lips and tongue. It's too soon after his last orgasm to be truly aroused, but god, Andy is bloody close.
Andy pulls away from the kiss when he feels a small hand on his chest.
Zoe's there. Zoe's there, hot and sticky and her panties are on the floor. This alone fries Andy's mind.
Hamish leans back enough to allow Zoe to wriggle in between the two of them, nearly kneeing Andy in the chest twice.
“Get what you wanted?” asks Andy.
“Mmm,” she smirks, “And then some.”
Zoe licks along Andy's jaw bone. “I can taste myself on you. I can taste Hame on you.”
“How many times have you come?” asks Andy, a little bewildered this beautiful woman is rubbing herself all over him and her partner-his partner-is right there.
“Me? Oh, about five.”
“Five?” chimes in Hamish. Zoe leans back, and kisses Hamish. After they part, she says, “Yes. Twice with you. Thrice with me.”
“And you're still so...” begins Andy, not certain how to phrase it delicately.
“Up for it?” she suggests. He nods, thankful she doesn't take offence. “Hame, lean forward and kiss Andy. I can't get enough of that.”
Hamish does so, pinning Zoe between them. “Oh, you guys don't know how hot that feels, to be between two sexy, sexy men,” she says when they part. “Shame about not... breathing, but, so worth it.”
Hamish sneaks a hand around and up Zoe's dress. He begins to tease Zoe's opening, rubbing her clitoris and lips, then dipping a finger inside her. Andy can't see what Hamish's doing, but by the way Zoe is leaning against Hamish and breathing heavily, it must feel good.
“Andy... Andy... touch me.” Uncertain what she wants, and what Hamish is comfortable him doing to her, Andy places his hands on either side of Zoe's waist. “No, my... ah...” By the smirk on Hamish's face, he must be doing something she likes. “My, my... these,” she finally manages, and cups her breasts.
Andy reaches out and stiffly palms her small breasts through her dress as if he's holding up a piece of art for hanging.
She shakes her head, then slips the straps of her dress down her shoulders, revealing her t-shirt bra.
Zoe turns to Hamish. “Could you? My arms... not working right.”
Hamish uses the hand not covered in her vaginal fluids to flick her bra closure open. Zoe removes the bra and flings it to the floor and leans back against Hamish. Andy's eyes flicker up to Hamish who nods his consent, then down to Zoe's pert breasts. Andy cups one fleshy mound, swiping his thumb over the peak; the areola and nipple tighten and harden. Andy lathers his thumb with saliva and sweeps it over the nipple again. Zoe hisses when the cold air meets her hot skin.
Andy takes both breasts in hand, massaging the flesh, watching Zoe moan and pant. He bends to take Zoe's left nipple between his lips and sucks. She gasps and whispers, “Yes... that.” Andy suckles, nibbles, and blows upon the slick flesh, moving between the two breasts in turn.
After a particularly vocal squeal from Zoe, she whispers to Hamish. “In me. Now. You good?” Hamish stands and strips eagerly. Zoe clutches at Andy. He can feel her thighs quivering above him, her nipples through his t-shirt, her breath against his neck.
Andy has seen Hamish naked more times than he'd care, but he's never seen that bloom of pink across his chest and face, nor his cock full and turgid with arousal. Andy shies his eyes as clothing hits the floor until he hears Hamish swear. Andy chuckles reflexively.
Hamish is peeling off his boxers, the cotton tacky with his earlier release, sticking uncomfortably to his erection. Andy stills upon seeing the long length. The foreskin is retracted fully, the head a ruddy pink; Hamish is fully hard.
Hamish pulls a throw off the couch and lays it upon the hardwood floor. He then picks up a rather dishevelled and flushed Zoe and lays her upon the throw, her body pressed to his as he trails light fingers along her skin. Zoe sits up and pulls her dress over her head and throws it... somewhere, who cares.
She places a hand upon his chest and asks him to lay down upon the blanket. Her hands and mouth travel over his skin expertly, knowing where and how to make him moan.
Those moans-his best friend's moans-are going to be stuck in Andy's mind forever now. With time, they may erode and mutate, but always, the essence of them will be remembered. Andy can't decide if that's a good thing or not.
Finally, Zoe clambers atop Hamish, hovering just above his erection, and then with one hand keeping it in place, sinks down. Soft, wet lips engulf a hard length. She leans over until her red cheeks rests upon Hamish's sweaty chest, and then she begins to fuck him in earnest. There's no up, just down, down, down, relentlessly, Hamish's cock disappearing between her moist folds. Hard and fast they move. Andy closes his eyes, just listening to the wet slapping of their skin and harsh breathing. She cries out, like something is being torn from her. Despite himself, Andy whimpers shakily.
Then, Hamish flips Zoe onto her back and thrusts, her legs wrap around his waist
He's watching his best friend fuck. He's watching him fuck, and it's-he can't hide from it-it's making his skin prickle, his stomach clench, it's making him want to kneel down between them and lick all over their salty skin, to taste the sex. He wants to slide between them, feel their bodies against his, crush his. How did he get here?
He cups himself through his jeans. His pulse is pounding in his ears, but when he closes his eyes, it's them he hears. Their skin slapping together rhythmically, their mewling, their hard breathing, their half whispers of love. With his eyes closed, he can almost feel them against him, around him. Their soft and hard bodies pounding around him.
Oh god, he's aching again. He releases his belt and slips a hand into his shorts, feeling himself through his boxers. He's so hard, and he only came maybe twenty minutes ago, but his balls ache as if he hasn't released in days, weeks. He just-he needs to feel skin.
He strips off his t-shirt. His chest is tacky with sweat, and his fingers drag on his chest hairs as he rubs a hand over himself. He's burns with heat. His fingers flicker over his lower abdomen, causing his muscles to clench pleasantly, sending tendrils of sensation through him to his groin, his need. His eyes drift open. Hamish still has Zoe on her back. Her fingers are digging into his back as Hamish pounds into her, desperately, as if this is all he needs in the world. Their starring intently into each other's eyes, their lips hovering centimetres apart. They can't see him, only each other, and for some reason, this makes Andy all the more harder.
Andy arches into his own touch, as his hand explores his chest further, finding a nipple and twisting, hard. It's almost is if his hand belongs to another, the way it lovingly ghosts over his skin. His other hand slithers into his boxers and grabs his cock. Andy grimaces at the slickness of his previous release mixing with his precome. At least he won't need lube for this.
He wriggles out of his shorts, and with a slight hesitation, out of his boxers too. The first couple strokes are almost painful he's so sensitive, but soon he finds his comfortable pace, and rocks into his hand.
His eyes drift back to the couple, only to find they've slowed their frantic fucking, and their eyes on him.
He pauses, unsettled with their intent gaze.
“Andy,” croaks Zoe, “come here.”
Should he? He's so close now, he could finish himself quickly into his hand, but, their eyes are so desirous, the pair of them. Their desire fuels his, and he finds himself crawling towards them on the floor, his sweaty knees dragging painfully upon the hardwood, his erection bobbing between his legs.
Zoe whispers into Hamish's ear, and Hamish rolls off her with a groan. Andy feels a little guilty; he must have been close to his release. Hamish's cock head is red, stark against the rest of his pale skin. Andy finds himself staring at the erection, noting the similarities and differences between his and Hamish's, wondering what it would feel like in his hand, pressed against his belly, the taste of it in his mouth. Fuck, what is he thinking?
Zoe is beckoning to him to lie down where her and Hamish lay only moments before. He can feel a little cold spot where Zoe's fluids must have leaked out and pooled on the blanket. Zoe is smiling down at him with a wicked grin. Andy almost feels nervous except for the arousal coursing through him leaves little room for any other emotion.
Zoe swings her leg over Andy's torso, and settles down upon his chest, facing away from him. Her ass is nearly in his face, obscuring the rest of his body. She bends over, raising her behind just an inch or two, enough for him to see her pink lips stretched between her legs. Andy feels an impulse to touch her, to thrust his fingers inside her and feel that soft, moist flesh of her canal. And then a velvety heat engulfs his cock head, lips upon his shaft. His groan is long and hard.
The heat takes him in further, consuming him. What is he but those inches of flesh? If he closes his eyes, that's all he can feel is that mouth stretched around him. Well, that and the burning heat of Zoe's core pressed into his chest, inches from his face. Such a shame she is such a petite woman and he so tall, he would have loved to delve his tongue into the very core of her, hear her moan. Her opening is so close, maybe with his fingers, he could...
A small flicker of guilt courses through him when he rolls his head and sees Hamish only a foot away, a hand wrapped around his angry cock. His hand is moving at an agonizingly slow rate. Zoe probably told him he couldn't come without her or something.
The guilt deepens as he sees how strained and taught Hamish's whole body is. His hips are jerking slowly, his teeth biting into his lip, and eyes shut tightly with concentration, probably thinking of anything not to come. Hamish squeezes his balls, they're tight against his body, and whimpers.
An emotion of something warm and gooey floods through him. It's somewhere between love and lust, a deep compassion, an understanding that these people mean so much in his life. Perhaps it's just the arousal, but he feels a connection he didn't know he held until just this moment, something beyond matey beers and a working relationship, even beyond friendship. Andy reaches over and brushes a hand across Hamish's cheek and up into his hairline. Hamish's eyes snap open.
“Come closer,” mouths Andy. Hamish inches over until Hamish's hip is resting against Zoe's leg. She sits up momentarily from the touch, but returns to sucking along Andy's erection with a smile upon seeing Hamish.
“I want to do something for you,” whispers Andy. He doesn't know why he's whispering, but the moment seems to require it.
Andy reaches for Hamish's hand and takes it in his own, bringing it to his mouth. He swipes his tongue over the palm. It tastes of so many heady and salty things: sweat, semen, and Zoe's come. It tastes good, and Andy licks the whole of Hamish's hand, sucking each finger into his mouth, all the while Hamish stares at his mouth with what Andy can only describe as lust.
Andy returns Hamish's hand to Hame's erection, his own hand covering Hamish's. “Show-show me what you like,” Andy stutters.
Hamish's eyes widen and then his tongue swipes over his bottom lip eagerly. Hamish takes Andy's hand and wraps it around his cock, slowly gliding it up and down. It feels both familiar and foreign and tantalizingly intimate; he's never felt another man's penis, particularly an aroused one.
Hamish throws his head back and closes his eyes, losing himself. Andy begins to pick up the pace, swishing his palm over the head ever few jerks, making Hamish buck his hips and pant heavily. Andy smirks with the power he holds.
Zoe must be feeling neglected, for she sucks Andy's cock deep into her mouth, until her lips kiss his pelvis. Andy keens and jerks. He would swear Zoe is smiling around his penis.
He can feel his own orgasm pending, like the sun about to break the horizon at dawn. His hand slows around Hamish's cock as the burn starts to curl in his limbs and his muscles tense. It comes upon him so forcefully, it's almost painful with its intensity. He bucks his hips-although he doesn't know if it's away or into Zoe's mouth as he releases his seed. Zoe milks every wave of ebbing pleasure that follows. The seering heat dissipates into a pleasant warmth that tingles all through his body.
“Zoe,” Andy rasps. Zoe climbs off Andy and spins to face him. She spits Andy's release into her hand with a smirk. “Just wipe it on the blanket,” he says, “Come here.” Zoe leans over Andy, smiling down at him. Her face is sweaty, her makeup is smeared, and she is so utterly beautiful.
“I'm sorry, I was going to finger you, but I got distracted.” Andy jerks his eyes over to a gently panting Hamish. Zoe laughs.
“It's okay. I've come six times to your two. I'm good.” She leans over and kisses him gently. Andy tastes himself on her, still an odd experience, like licking his own reflection in a mirror.
“Can I,” begins Andy, after they part, “Can I finish off your boyfriend?” Zoe's eyes brighten. Andy chuckles at her reaction.
Zoe grabs a second throw, wrapping it around herself, and then sprawls upon Andy's couch, her joints surely a little sore from Andy's hard floor. She flickers her hand as if to say, “Go on.” Andy chuckles and settles upon Hamish's thighs. Hamish's eyes are closed in concentration, his teeth biting his bottom lip.
Andy's first touch on Hamish's dick is met with a low moan. With two hands, he works up and down Hamish's length, twisting and squeezing until Hamish's breathing is ragged and his cheeks flaming with just how near he is. “I'm so-so-so close,” pants Hamish.
Without fully thinking through his actions, Andy inches backwards and then bends over, taking Hamish's head into his mouth. It's... hot and salty, and it feels shiny and hard. Hamish whimpers and bucks his hips into Andy's mouth, gagging him with his enthusiasm and need.
“Oh, fuck,” moans Hamish. Andy attempts to suck Hamish as far in as he can, but chokes about half way down Hamish's length.
“And-Andy, I'm gonna come. Oh, oh god...” Something hot hits the back of Andy's mouth, and he pulls off of Hamish's cock, spitting it out. Seed pulses from Hamish's cock as he releases a strangled cry.
“Oh, fuck,” repeats Hamish breathlessly. “I can't believe you-you-fuck!” Andy smirks. He glances up to Zoe. Her eyes are sparkling. She looks majestic laying upon his couch, wrapped in the blanket and her cheeky smile. She nods at the pair of them. Andy knows what to do. He snakes up Hamish's body and leans in for a gentle kiss. Hamish eagerly responds, parting his lips and welcoming Andy's tongue.
They break apart, panting slightly and staring into each other. Without breaking their gaze, Hamish speaks. “Zobot, you happy?”
Only a “Very, Hamebot” comes from the couch. Andy collapses onto the floor beside Hamish, sticky and sore, and just laughs.